Nantucket Summer rewrite
by Jajay924
Summary: Hans Landa has settled into his new American home and finds himself in need of a new mistress, but this time he wants a challenge. In Elaine Hagen, he finds one.  Same author, re-write of the original  LandaxOC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I decided to rewrite this because as I sat down to finally update my old story I decided to re-read the first four chapter. I quickly realized they weren't very good. So, I am going to rewrite the first four chapters, then delete the old story, and continue on from here.

Please tell me what you think? It means a lot to me.

Thanks and Enjoy!

Prologue:

Han's Landa sat on the front porch of his new home and stared out into the sea. His home rested on the East side of the Island and he would often find himself stating out at the sea thinking about the war, or replaying fond memories of the times before the war when he would enjoy peaceful strolls down Vienna's beautiful streets and look out at the Alps. Now he had the sea to gaze at, which he found almost as beautiful, but things were not quite the same, as much as he tried to pretend they were.

He had done well for himself though. He had ended on the winning side, he had received a substantial amount of credit for ending the war, and now he was living in his own, expensive home on Nantucket Island. He got his monthly checks which paid him the generous sum of a retired Colonel in the United States Army, and had his congressional medal of honor sitting on the mantel in his sitting room.

Over all things had turned out wonderfully for him. He would watch the Nuremberg trials, which were expected to finish in a few months time, with a smile of smug satisfaction. He was sure that he would have been one of those twenty three men being tried had he not managed to finagle such an unbelievable deal. Those men were so strong in their convictions. Some of them wouldn't even lie to get a better sentence.

That thought brought a bitter frown to Landa's lips. The scar on his forehead was a glaring setback on his new life. What angered him more than anything else was the fact that he did not consider himself in the least to be a Nazi. He had been telling the truth when he spoke to Lt. Raine and Private Utivitch. He worked for the Nazi's. That didn't make him one. He was a detective, starting his work at twenty three in Vienna after his time at University. The mental thrill of tracking someone down, whose life depended on you not finding them was something Landa had always craved. When he was given the opportunity to bring that to an International level he jumped at it. The difference between him and others through was that he did not care who he tracked down. Jew, Catholic, French, German…it made no difference.

Now he was marked forever. He knew the natives of the Island had heard the story and knew that every time he went out they would try to get a quick glimpse of his forehead. He was careful though and made sure he was never in any place that would require he remove his hat. When he went out his hat was snug on his head, angled downward slightly to cover his forehead.

Even so the scar was not the ugly dark purple he had seen on others. Once he had made it to the American base the General had sent him to the medical sent to be treated by the very best American medics in camp. He had been in no condition to be debriefed by the General before entering the medical tent, and afterward one of the more sympathetic young American soldiers had given him a generous amount of morphine. For the next couple of hours he slept, slipping in and out of consciousness.

After waking, the young doctor who had been assigned to care for him explained that Lt. Raine and Utivitch had gotten far worse than simply chewed out. The General had been furious at the "murder" of Hermann and probably even more furious that Landa could not be debriefed. Lt. Raine was demoted to Mast Sergeant, two ranks below Lieutenant. Despite the fact that he was promptly re-promoted Landa had felt a small sense of satisfaction at the news.

He was in the tent almost a week and the young doctor, a newly married man from Boston it turned out, worked to make sure his wound did not get infected. His scar eventually faded into a light pink color and his skin was partially raised.

"I'm amazed it's looking so well," the medic had told him before Landa was set to fly to London, then to Boston. "It was a deep one."

In fact it was deeper than almost any other Swastika scared Germans Landa had seen. Only on little leg of the swastika stood out to drastically, and it was a dark red that Landa didn't think would ever fade. A few times he had considered tracking Raine down to Tennessee and putting a well placed bullet in his head, but he dismissed this as fantasy.

His real goal at the current time was to find a mistress, or mistresses, and that was very difficult to do if you never left your house. His excursions into town were brief and few and far between. When he did go into town, those who would try to talk to him did so only briefly. He could sense their unease and he was given little opportunity to truly put on his charm.

His English was very good, but the hint of his Austrian accent could still be heard and many people knew his history. It is true that they all believed he was a double agent and a war hero, but he was, to them, still a German. His hope was to befriend the men of the Island, gain their trust, and then they would have no second thoughts about letting him near their daughters. Luckily his reputation had not followed him from Europe.

He took a sip of his scotch and glanced at his gold pocket watch. Ten thirty was too early to drink even by his standards, but it helped him relax and there was nothing better for him to do at the current time. He hadn't gotten the chance to go to any of the book stores in the vicinity, and even though he had been given a TV he did not enjoy watching it.

He found himself growing excited for the first time in the few weeks since the war ended and he thought about what type of girl he wanted to go after. He had grown tired to the easy women. In France he had been so busy he hadn't the time to pursue a proper conquest. Instead he set after the rebellious Frenchman's daughter who wanted to sleep with a Nazi, or the curious but experienced girl who wanted to know what an older man had to offer. And while these flings had been pleasurable he never derived the same satisfaction from it that a virgin offered.

But virgins, virgins who wanted to be virgins, were real work. There was no pretend giggling and blushing before they fell into bed quite willingly with you. They were usually guarded, protective of themselves, and truly intent on keeping their virtue. It was a chore. You needed to seduce them, truly seduce them. Lull them into a sense of safety and trust before even making a sexual advance. It took patience and time. Both of which he was willing to give, because the end result was truly worth the effort.

He took one more sip of his scotch before setting it down on the small side table next to him. He was planning his trip into town for the day when he heard a car engine and tires on his gravel driveway. He didn't look over immediately, thinking it was an army representative coming to speak to him about some unfinished business. When he finally did look over it was white Chrysler that he didn't recognize. What got his attention even more was the fact that the top was down. Government cars were not usually so casual.

Landa stood, stretching his sore muscles and walked over to the edge of his porch and watched them park next to his own Cadillac. His attention was on the driver, who got out of his car with a large smile on his face and waved to Landa. Landa returned the smile and the wave but remained on his porch.

"Hello, there neighbor!" The man called. His voice was warm and kind and Landa got the feeling this man meant no harm. He walked down the steps slowly and casually and walked toward the man.

"Hello," he answered and the man removed his hat. Landa reached up and pressed his more firmly onto his head.

"We just came to meet our new neighbor," he said and Landa raised his eye brows. Until this point the newcomer had blocked the passenger side and Landa had been unable to see his companion. When she finally came around the side of the new car Landa felt a smile come to his face.

"it is a pleasure," he said to the man and extended his hand. The man took his hand and shook warmly.

"My names Robert Hagen, and this is my beautiful daughter Elaine," he said. And Elaine was beautiful. She had thick, wavy hair the color of a rich chocolate that ended just above her shoulders. It was neatly parted at the side and a small blue bow clipped her hair out of her face. Green eyes looked up at him from modestly lined eyes and he full lips were painted red. She wore a simple powder blue skirt that ended just below her knees and a conservative short sleeve white blouse. She smiled at Landa, her pouty lips turning upward for a moment before dipping back down to their normal place.

"I am so pleased to meet you both. My name is Hans Landa," Landa said and released Robert's hand. He took Elaine's in his and surprised her when instead of shaking her hand he brought it to his lips and placed a feather light kiss to her skin. When he stood back up and lowered her hand he felt her tug her hand from his with more force then was usually respectable, but Hagen did not see it. Elaine's eyes were questioned him silently and he could see her distrust shining through them. Her left hand gently covered her right as she felt the need to guard her kissed hand from him. His eyes smiled at her before he looked back to Hagen.

"We thought we could come and welcome you to the neighborhood. I apologize for being so long but my youngest has been very ill the past few weeks," Hagen said and Landa forced a frown.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Landa replied. "But not much as been happening here. Just settling it."

He smiled and glanced over at Elaine who was looked at him with a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Please, I have been so rude. Come in, I will serve tea," Landa said and motioned for them to walk with him up the steps.

"That is very kind you, Mr Landa," Robert said and gently nudged Elaine ahead of him. Landa smiled as he looked back at her. That was easier than he thought it would ne.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Please review! Tell me if the story is worth rewriting!

Hope you guys like it.

()()()

Walking along the side of the home Landa took them to the back door. Elaine looked out at the backyard, already a lush green from the spring rains, and out to the sea. Slowly her eyes moved away from the calm ocean and up toward the house. It was a large home, consisting of two towers, a half tower, and three fire places. The porch was two stories and she assumed his bedroom opened up to the upper deck. It was a rustic brown, but beautiful, and Elaine tried to calculate how an immigrant colonel could afford a Cadillac and such a home so quickly after the war ended.

"Right through there," Landa said as he held the door open for his tow guests. Elaine gave him a soft smile of thanks as she stepped into the house but it quickly fell from her lips once they broke eye contact. The inside was decorated tastefully and had wide open space. She could quickly discern he was a man who liked to breath and probably found clutter abhorrent.

The back door brought them into a large kitchen. The kitchen table, seated with six chairs, was to their left, in front of large bay windows that reached the floor. Sun shown into the room lighting up the entire kitchen. Through a large archway door was a equally as pristine and neatly decorated sitting room. A large brown chair sat at the far end of a modestly sized coffee table and a couch rested to its left. Both these pieces of furniture were placed in front of a large stone fireplace that had a small fire burning out inside.

Landa extended his hand and insisted they sat down on the couch. Elaine sat closest to the brown chair that she assumed Landa would sit in.

"Nice man don't you think?" Robert asked as Landa prepared tea in the kitchen. Elaine let out a soft, feminine "humph" and reached to the side table. A small hard cover book was all that the table held and Elaine picked it up. She ran her fingers over the rough green cover to the red writing in the center.

"_Der Prozess,_" she whispered to herself and opened the book.

"What was that my darling?" her father asked and Elaine shook her head.

"Oh nothing," she replied and looked inside the front cover. Inside scribbled in black ink were words she assumed were written in German and she assumed he had written them himself. She thumbed through the pages, looking at the strange lettering.

"Franz Kafka," Landa said as he placed the tray down and Elaine looked up from the book. Robert leaned forward and poured himself some tea. "One of my favorite authors. He was an Austrio-Hungarian you know."

"Was he," Elaine said. "I've heard of him. Aren't his books rather…disturbing?"

Robert handed Elaine a cup of tea and she thanked her father sweetly before turning back to their host.

"Yes, they can be, but that's what makes them so fascinating," Landa said and Elaine's lips curved upward slightly.

"Elaine is studying literature at Wellesley College," Robert said and Landa nodded.

"Do you plan to work after your education?" Landa asked and Elaine's eyes turned hard.

"I might," she replied. Landa took a sip of his tea and nodded.

"Either way, I've always found it imperative that women have access to further education. After all, they raise our future do they not?" Landa directed his question at Robert and he nodded.

"Oh yes. All of my children will have a proper education, but I must admit. My Elaine is the brightest of them all," he said proudly. Elaine's pale cheeks blushed softly and an embarrassed smile lifted her lips.

"Father please," Elaine said and her hands tightened on the book. She glanced over at Landa who was smiling gently.

"No need to be modest, my dear," Landa said. "A proud father cannot help himself."

"Do you have any children?" Robert asked and Landa shook his head.

"None living," he replied and Robert's faced flushed.

"I am so very sorry," Robert replied and set his tea glass back onto the tray.

"Oh no, it was very long ago," Landa reassured him. "I had a daughter, she was three. Jana. She died shortly after the Great War, of Spanish flu."

"That is dreadful," Robert said and Landa forced a smile. He rarely allowed himself to think about Johanna, but when he did it was painful. "And…your wife?"

"Sigrid died shortly before Jana. The Spanish flu again," he said. His pain at the memory of his little girl was suddenly replaced with the overwhelming disgust he felt at the mention of his late wife. If he were to look at a bright side of the Spanish flu, it was that he was no longer married to that insufferable woman.

"You didn't fall ill?" Elaine asked outlining Kafka's name on the book with her little finger.

"I did, but only shortly." He said and glanced down at her hands. His eyes took in her narrow waist and the curve of her hips as he did so. Robert took his downward gaze as the reaction of a man remembering the worst even possible in a person's life, the loss of a spouse and child, and didn't notice the rather lascivious look in his eye. When he looked up he smiled softly. "But that was all years ago."

"I apologize for bringing up such painful memories," Robert said genuinely and Landa nodded. There was a moment of comfortable silence, seeming to Robert a time to remember those who had been lost in the past tumultuous half decade. Landa had his gaze on Elaine, and Elaine was looking around the home with a neutral expression on her face. His story had clearly had little effect on Elaine, who was rather suspicious of him.

"How did you afford this house?" Elaine asked in a casual, almost respectful manner and Landa's eyebrows rose.

"Elaine!" Robert said in shock and Elaine looked toward him with slight innocence slight reproach.

"What?" She asked her father and turned back to look at Landa. Before Robert Hagen had the chance to do anything Elaine spoke again. "You were a Colonel weren't you? I know you get good enough benefits but surely an immigrant on a military pension couldn't afford a house of this size. Not to mention right on the water."

"Elaine, a young lady does not talk about a man's finances. And in his own home. I am so very sorry, Mr. Landa," Robert said.

"Hans, please," Landa said and smiled. He looked at Elaine for a solid, thick moment, before looking back to Robert. "Young ladies sometimes forget who they are speaking too. They think their impertinence cute…or amusing…"

"I was not trying to be cute or funny," Elaine snapped. "It's a fair question."

"It was a gift," he said.

"A gift?" She shot back quickly and Landa nodded. He stood and went to the fire place. He reached up on the mantel and picked up a small, rectangular black box with a clear glass cover. He sat back down and showed it to Elaine and Robert.

"It came with this," he said and Robert's lips parted. Elaine looked from her father to Landa and then back at the case doing her best to mask her confusion.

"Is that?...Is that…" Robert seemed stunned and Landa smiled.

"A Congressional Medal of Honor?" he asked and glanced at Elaine who seemed thoroughly surprised. "Yes it is."

"That is amazing," Robert said and Landa nodded and stood to put it back on the mantel. "I am quite proud of it."

"As you should be," Robert replied and Landa sat back down.

"What did you do?" she asked and Landa looked at her. There was a slight furrow in her brow and he thought she was even more attractive when angry.

"Beg pardon?" Landa asked and Elaine ignored the stern look she was receiving from her father.

"The government doesn't just give away those medals, nor do they buy luxurious houses on Nantucket Island. Especially for run of the mill turncoats," she said and Landa fought the urge to smile as Robert's face turned red. "So, you had to have done something quite magnificent."

"I can only say it was quite significant to ending the war," he said and Elaine pursed her lips a moment.

"Did you do this before or after a swastika was carved on your head?" She asked and Landa felt his jaw clench. He had found her amusing at first but now he was getting on his nerves. He'd enjoy putting her in her place when the time came.

"Elaine that is enough!" Robert said and although Elaine's face was flushed and knew full well she was in the wrong, she continued.

"Last I had heard it wasn't required of S.S officers," she said and Landa's eyes narrowed. The scar everyone knew about, but that piece of information had been kept sealed.

"What makes you think I was in the S.S?" he asked.

"Answer my question first," she said and Robert stood.

"That's it. I am very sorry Mr. Landa but I am bringing my daughter home now," he said and Elaine and Landa both stood. "Appologize to Mr. Landa for being rude Elaine."

"I wasn't being rude," Elaine said but her face was red with embarrassment. She knew she had crossed a line, and the man had a right to his privacy, and being attacked in his own home was wrong, but she had been unable to stop herself. She had been dying to know those questions since June Parkwell said she saw him in the market. Landa watched her stand her ground with a small half smile on his face.

"Apologize!" Robert nearly yelled and Elaine looked at Mr. Landa.

"I apologize for my bad before Mr. Landa," she said. "I hope you can forgive me."

She was hopelessly embarrassed, being scolded like a little girl in front of a recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor and she wanted nothing more than to go outside and bury herself.

"No man could stay angry with you for long, Fraulein," he said and took her hand in his. He lowered his head, placed a soft kiss to her hand, and stood up straight. She smiled softly and took her hand away. Landa lead them to the back door they entered and walked them to their car. As they were saying good bye Elaine turned to wait by the car and bit the inside of her cheek as her father apologized for her one more time.

"You are more than welcome to borrow it if you like," Landa said as he said farewell to Elaine. "But I ask you to take care of it. It is my only souvenir from home."

Elaine looked at him in confusion for a moment before looking down and realized she had not once put down his book. In fact, her fingers were clamped around it so tightly one would think her life depended on it. She blushed an even deeper red that Landa found pleasing.

"Oh no, I couldn't," she said. "but thank you very much."

"No, if you would like to read it," he said and she looked down at the book and shook her head as she spoke.

"I cannot read German," she said.

"Not yet," Robert said and Elaine and Landa looked at him. "Elaine added German to her language studies last year, didn't you?"

"Yes," Elaine said. "I figured it would be good to know if you all took over the world."

"Practical," Landa said and Elaine smiled. "Well, I would be happy to help you with the language if you ever need any assistance. I am a native speaker after all."

"That would be wonderful, Mr. Landa," Robert said and open Elaine's door. Elaine got into the car silently with one last glance at Landa.

"Hans, please," he said and Robert came back around the car. He opened his own door and looked to Landa.

"On Monday we are having a dinner at my home. Just a few friends. I would be so glad if you could come," he said and Landa looked skeptical.

"Oh, I don't know-"

"Please, as an apology for my daughter and a way to welcome you to the community,"

Landa looked into the car at Elaine who was looking at her hands before looking back at Robert.

"As long as I am not intruding," he said and Robert smiled warmly.

"Of course not," he said and took his hand. They shook hands warmly and Robert, with another good bye, got into the car. The car backed out of the gravel drive way and pulled away. Hans waved to the way and tucked the book he had taken back from Elaine under his arm.

So far what he had liked what he saw from Elaine. She was strong, appeared to be hard headed and wouldn't be easily bowled over. However, she had the young essence of innocence about her and appeared to be easily brought to her knees…figuratively. And she was beautiful. Landa could picture her in the cinema, perhaps giving Von Hamersmark a run for her money, the miserable bitch. If she could act that is.

Landa walked backed into his house and into the living room. He placed the book back on his side table and leaned back into his chair. He removed his hat and tossed it onto the couch beside him. Reaching up, his finger tips gently trailed over the raised pink skin on his forehead and sighed. How was he going to explain that?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I hope you guys like it!

Things will begin to depart from the regular story and there is only one more chapter to rewrite so, the updates may slow down a little after that. They will still be regular though.

Please review!

()()()

"Really, June, We are supposed to be sophisticated," Elaine said as they stepped out of the restaurant. June Parkwell had her right arm linked with Elaine's and another lifelong friend, the beautifully plump Rose linked on the left. June blew a large, pink bubble between her lips at Elaine. Reaching up Elaine placed a neatly manicured nail into the pocket of air and gum stuck to June's nose and lips. Giggling Rose and Elaine watched as June pealed the gum from her face and pushed it back between her full lips.

"Come on Elaine. I heard it's awfully romantic," Rose said. She looked around June's head to see Elaine. Elaine gave a slight shrug and an apologetic smile.

"I would but I can't," she said. "We are having dinner with the Bengstons and the Wilsons tonight. I can't go to the mainland."

"Maybe we could go to the mainland on Wednesday? See the movie then?" June asked and looked at Elaine.

"I should. I'm not doing anything," she said and Rose and June smiled.

"We are holding you to this one, Elaine. We mean it," Rose said and Elaine flashed her perfectly straight, white teeth at them.

"I'll come. I promise," she said and bit her bottom lip as they walked passed a little book shop on one of the side streets. They had walked a little under half a mile on their way back to the ferries and Elaine checked her watch. "Have you been in here before, Rose?"

"Once or twice," Rose said and Elaine pulled her arm from June and stepped onto the walk way. Her heal almost got stuck in a crack in the stone walk way but she managed to avoid it. Reaching down she smoothed a smudge off of her white shoes. She had decided on a simple, pink side button day dress for her outing with June to visit Rose on Martha's Vineyard. A white belt embraced her around the middle warmly was, by far, the best looking of the trio of friends.

"I want to take a look in," she said and Rose looked down the road. The trees that lined the sidewalks were just beginning to bloom and the sun was beginning to increase in strength with each passing day.

"You might miss the next ferry," Rose warned but Elaine was already on her way for the door. A little bell chimed as she opened the old paint chipped door and she looked around at the cramped but full little store. The store was musty despite the windows being open and the store owner was nowhere in sight.

"Really, Elaine. You can buy a book back on Nantucket," June said and Elaine began looking at the spines of the books, searching for K.

"They don't have this one," Elaine said and Rose frowned as she pulled a book out of the shelf and examined it with a bored expression.

"The book store on Nantucket is bigger than this one. What makes you think this one will have it?" June asked but Elaine ignored her.

"Kafka, Kafka, Kafka," she whispered as she got to the K's. "Kafka!" she yelled in excitement when she found it and pulled the book from the shelf. She glanced at the cover and frowned, realizing she didn't know if it was the same book.

"God bless you," Rose said as she leaned against a book shelf. June giggled when Elaine shot her a look.

"June? What's the word in German for Trial?" she asked and June frowned at her.

"I don't speak German," she said and Elaine sighed. Making her way through the cramp space and weaving in and out of small isles she found the owner of the establishment. He was a short, lump, pleasant looking man who smiled widely when he saw her approach him with the book. When she showed him the book he smiled and told her the price in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Five dollars," he said and her eyes widened.

"That is awfully expensive," she said and he shrugged.

"We don't get a lot of him around here," he told her and she sighed as she looked down at the book.

"Do you at least know the name of it in German?" she asked and he looked at the book a moment.

"One second," he said holding up a finger to her and disappeared into a backroom. A few seconds later the man returned with an elderly woman as short as he was. He showed her the book. "What is this is German?"

"Why do you want to know that?" she asked in an old voice, dripping with the clipped speech of a German.

"The young lady wants to know," he said and the old woman looked at Elaine before a look of surprise came over her face. She clearly hadn't noticed she was there.

"Oh! Hello deary," she said and looked at the book again. "It was published in Austria as _Der Prozess_."

"Oh, this is what I am looking for then," she said and pulled five dollars out of her purse. "Thank you very much."

She checked her watch, placed the book under her arm, and hurried out of the book shop, passed June and Rose.

"Hurry up girls!" she called as ran down the road. "We are going to miss the ferry!"

()()()

"No thank you, Mrs. Hagen!" June said as she followed Elaine up the stairs to her bedroom. "What's so important about the book?"

"Hmm?" Elaine asked as she gently placed it under her pillow. "Oh, nothing. Mr. Landa was reading it. It was the only thing he brought with him from Germany. It must be important to him. I figured I could learn a little bit more about him with it."

"So you actually talked to him," June asked as she lay down on her stomach on Elaine's bed. She bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows. "Isn't he handsome?"

"June! He must be in his fifties!" Elaine said and went red.

"So? He's European. That means he's cultured and sophisticated." June said and faked a pout. "But I never got to talk to him. I only watched him buy milk at Darcy's Market."

"Did you see his scar?" Elaine asked and June shook her head.

"No, he had his hat on. So tell me. What was he like?" she asked and Elaine shrugged.

"I don't know. Polite enough I guess." She paused a moment to think. "There's something not right though."

"What do you mean?" she asked and Elaine looked out of her window. She could see Timothy Blackwell walking down the street with James Brickmann and she pulled the curtain to the side.

"You know he lives in the old Peterson house right? On the south east end of the island?" June nodded and Elaine looked at her with a serious expression. "How did he afford that? I mean he's an immigrant. A war hero maybe, but the government doesn't just give stuff like that away. And he couldn't afford it."

"Who knows, maybe he's like a millionaire in Germany or something," June said. "You never know Elaine. I think you're being too suspicious."

"Maybe," Elaine said and sighed. . "But I don't think so."

()()()

Landa stared at himself in the mirror for a few long minutes. The U.S government had repaid him handsomely for the pain and suffering he had gone through at the hands of two of their "elite" soldiers. He had been bought new suits, a new car, given a hike in his pension and given some of the best land on the Island, all in the name of bribery. He was lucky to even get that, seeing how he would be unable to spread the story the military desperately wanted to keep quiet. That an unarmed man was forced to the ground and mutilated by two U.S soldiers. If Landa were to come out with the truth behind his scar then his charade as a war hero would unravel. That couldn't happen.

He had come up with a semi-reasonable explanation for the scar. He had thought about telling a half truth and blaming it on Aldo Raine and his little man, but he didn't think that would go over well. Too many questions would follow and he was obligated by the government to keep that information secret. Instead he had settled on his cover being blown in the last few hours before he got to the American lines and another officer did it in retaliation for his treachery. It would perhaps garner more sympathy as well.

He placed his suspenders over his shoulders and tied his tie. He decided not to wear the vest to his suit; American's seemed much more casual about these types of group gatherings than Europeans, and put on his suit coat. He looked over his growing, and rather large selection of hats and picked up a grey Fedora and placed it on his head. Checking himself in the mirror he made sure that the scar was not visible before heading for the door.

His nerves were on edge but that was not to say he was nervous. He had an extreme confidence in his ability to handle any situation thrown at him with skill and had no fear that the night would turn out badly. He was anxious about removing his hat for the first time and having all those eyes on the symbol of Nazi cruelty and tyranny etched into his flesh. It was something that would make someone uncomfortable if it were on a normal person, but on a German it had silent meanings and would cause anyone's imagination to run wild. Hopefully the towns people were as trusting as he had been lead to believe. The young American soldier who had accompanied him to the island on the day he moved in informed him of such.

As he walked to his car he took the time to admire his newly attained Cadillac. It was truly a beautiful car and he doubted he would have been able to buy one like it in war ravaged Europe had he stayed. His own car, a Mercedes he had loved more than he had loved his wife when he married her, had been taken by the German military after their "invasion" of Austria. It was apparently needed to help the Germans conquer Europe. How exactly was never known to him.

He ran his fingers over the black paint before getting into the car and starting the engine. The Island was no more than 14 miles long and Landa arrived at the home in no time at all. The Hagen's house was a elegant white Victorian smaller than his own, but it was clear the family was well off. Flowers were beginning to bloom in the front yard and lined the driveway. The roof was steep, with a front facing gable and the house had the same asymmetric look to it that his had.

He walked up the steps calmly, looking up at the large bay windows as he did and he could have sworn he saw a curtain pulled to the side as he looked up. He knocked on the door as he usually did, four crisp knocks evenly spaced from one another. He knew he should begin to knock in a more informal fashion. Those kinds of knocks were usually saved for Military visitors come to tell you your son has been killed, or, in his line of work, to inform you your house is to be searched or that you are arrested and being sent to a camp. Old habits died hard though and he knocked as he usually did.

A few moments passed before Robert Hagen opened the door. He smiled warmly and shook Landa's hand as he welcomed him inside.

"Hans!" Robert said. "It is so good of you to come."

Landa smiled in return and Robert went on.

"Can I take your hat for you?" he asked and appeared to regret offering the moment he said it. Landa brought his hand up to his forehead and subtly pressed his fingers beneath the rim to feel the raised skin. "My friend is still wearing his. You don't have to-"

"No, it is terribly rude to wear one's hat when in someone else's home. Plus, there are ladies present," Landa said and took the plunge. He removed the hat from his head and handed it to Robert. As Robert took the hat his eyes remained on Landa's forehead for about a second to long before hanging it up with the coats. "I'm sure I will be telling this story a few times tonight."

"Oh, I can barely see it," Robert said. Had the man not being so nice Landa would have been insulted by the absurdity of the lie. It may not have been the dark purplish-red he had seen on the others, but it was distinctly noticeable. "This way."

Landa followed Robert into a sitting room holding seven people comfortably. The first man he was introduced too was William Blackwell, a friendly enough man around fifty with graying brown hair and an odd color of hazel in his eyes. He had a fat cigar between his teeth as he spoke and his laugh was loud and boisterous.

His wife, a beautiful woman nearly sixteen years her husband's junior, was Regina Blackwell. She had a sweet smile and kind eyes but Landa thought too much makeup was taking away from the beauty of her face.

Their only son, Timothy Blackwell, had been a corporal in the Marines during the war, but got shot his third day of deployment and sent home immediately. He had never gotten to go back, something he complained about, but was secretly quite pleased. He tried to know Landa the gunshot wound that permanently marked his left side but his father and mother shushed him to the side. He was apparently keen on showing anyone who would take the time to talk to him.

While the Blackwell family seemed like an all around nice family, the Davis's were slightly more complicated. George Davis was a strict military father who had always dreamed of sons but was instead blessed with two beautiful daughters. His jaw was constantly set in a ridged line unless a joke was made and it was difficult to gage his reactions.

His wife, Joyce Davis, was appeared to be woman and was always thinking, and was very good at manipulating situations to her desired outcomes. She was also considered, Landa would find out later, the town gossip. Valerie, their oldest daughter looked nearly identical to her mother, but had a glimmer in her eyes that suggested to Landa she was not as sweet as she tried to appear. The youngest daughter was five year old Bridget who was to busy playing with a doll on the floor to look up at the strange new man people were trying to introduce her too.

Landa was still standing in the doorway with Robert when he felt a slight body slip past them and he saw Elaine enter the room. As she turned to face her father and Landa in greeting he was once again impressed with her beauty and class. She wore a beautiful dark blue cocktail dress that draped over her shoulders and hips, and as sensual has Landa found the look, it was a rather conservative dress. Her hair and makeup was done modestly, but fashionably, and she held herself with confidence, but without overtly saying to everyone in the room that she was beautiful and she knew it. It appeared that look was already taken by Valerie.

"Well that's not so bad," Elaine said instead of a greeting and Robert's face went a deep red and his eyes widened in outrage. "Anna made it sound like your whole forehead was missing."

"Elaine!" Robert hissed under his breath and Landa held up a hand.

"oh, not problem," Landa said. "It is true I was quite lucky it faded so well. The American med team that worked on me was very skilled."

"How did it happen?" Timothy asked and Landa took the seat offered to him by the embarrassed Robert Hagen. Elaine sat down across from him watched him rehash his story. His eyes went from person to person as he spoke but he always felt her eyes on him. Even when he looked away.

"My cover was blown shortly after operation kino," he said and paused. "That's what we called. A S.S officer I knew through my work thought this was a sufficient retaliation."

"That must have been painful," William Blackwell said and Landa nodded.

"Oh, very," Landa told them and then laughed. "Although, I don't think the pain compared to the shock I felt when I looked in the mirror for the first time."

He looked toward Elaine who was looking at him with a knowing expression. With the others falling into a conversation about Nazi war crimes they held eye contact, and without anyone but Elaine seeing, winked an eye at her. Her lips parted and he saw confirmation spread over her face. She thought the story was made up and he had just confirmed it for her. And still she couldn't jump up and say he was lying, she had no way to prove it.

"Where are you from, Hans?" Robert asked and Lands crossed his legs.

"I was born in Vienna," he said. "I went to university for a short time in Berlin, but other than that I never really left Austria."

"Now…Austrian's speak German don't they?" Mrs. Blackwell asked and Landa nodded.

"Yes, we do," he said.

"How did an Austrian end up in the German military?"

"It's a long, complicated process," he said and everyone nodded.

"What rank were you?" Valerie asked with a bat of her eyes and Elaine watched Landa intently for his reaction to the flirting, probably rather loose young lady. That was another thing with virgins. They judged a man by how they reacted to the less virtuous girls. If the man was taken in with them, or impressed with them, then the virgin wanted nothing to with that man. If, however, they could see through the charade and were displeased with what they saw, than the man was worth pursuing. They somehow thought it made the man honorable. And so Landa kept a neutral look on his face and tried to appear unaffected by the other young lady. '

"I was a Colonel," he said.

"Now were you approached by the US military and then joined the Nazi regime, or did you join the Nazi's first?" Elaine asked and Landa turned to look at her. What a clever girl.

"I unfortunately was forced into service," Landa replied.

"The S.S is a volunteer branch," Elaine said.

"It was for a time," Landa said. "It changed around 1936. Even so, if you are asked to join, you don't say no."

"That's a bit cowardly isn't it?" Elaine asked and Robert moved to scold his daughter but Landa fired back to fast.

"Yes, I suppose it was," Landa said and put on a wonderfully believable pained expression on his face. "I'm not so proud a man that I won't admit I was frightened. We all were. Hitler was elected to bring Germany out of the desolate hell it was left in after the First World War. The German people needed something to hold onto. We are a proud people. But I can assure you, if people knew what Hitler had planned, he would not have been elected."

"That's an interesting perspective," Mr. Davis said with a look of deep contemplation on his face. Elaine was silent and she seemed to think about his words and she looked out toward the window.

A good looking middle aged woman who looked very similar to Elaine then entered the room with flushed cheeks and a smile on her face. She was removing her apron and looked around the room and nodded her head in greeting to everyone.

"Dinner is ready," she said before noticing Landa, who stood upon her entering the room. "Oh! You must be Mr. Landa!"

They shook hands and Landa smiled at her. The woman's eyes never once went to his forehead and for a few moments he felt like it wasn't there. "Well, I hate to rush you all into the kitchen, but…"

Everyone stood and made their way into the kitchen. As they walked into the hall Valerie appeared at his side and smiled up at him.

"So you can speak German?" she asked and Landa nodded his head. Her bare arm brushed against his suit and she smiled. "Say something for me."

"What would you like me to say?" he asked and took a step to the right as he walked so he was no longer touching her. He could feel Elaine's eyes burning into his back and kept a smug smile from his face. Valerie he could probably get into bed that night if he wanted, but she was far less appealing than Elaine. Beautiful yes, but not nearly as appealing as Elaine.

"I don't know. Just something…" she said and took her seat at the dinner table. She sat down next to Elaine and Landa took his seat across from her.

"Elaine ist sehr hübsch heute nacht." He said and Elaine looked over at him.

"What's that mean?" Valerie asked slightly annoyed and judging by the slight pinkness of Elaine's cheek she knew what it meant.

"Tell me Hans," Mr. Davis said as he sat down. "How do you think the Nuremberg Trials will end?"

"Well I think they will all be found guilty," Landa said, which was true. If not, only a few would be let off.

"Do you know any of them?" Mr. Blackwell asked and Landa momentarily debated whether or not he should tell the truth.

"I do," he replied with and thanked Mrs. Hagen as she served him. "I met almost half of them throughout my career. I worked closely with a select few."

"How fascinating."

Landa smiled and nodded. He took a bite of his food and addressed Mrs. Hagen. "This is delicious."

To the great relief of Hans Landa, the conversation shifted onto a different topic.

()()()

After dinner they all settled into the sitting room for drinks and conversation and much to Elaine's obvious annoyance, she was asked to play the piano. When she sat down she glanced at Landa and put her hands on the keys. She played well, not missing any notes and when she finished her first song she smiled sweetly as everyone clapped and blushed. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and when her eyes met Landa's she looked away.

"That was lovely," Landa said. "One of my favorites to play."

"You play?" she asked and he nodded.

"I do," he said. "Not as much as I would like, but I have a lovely grand piano in my new home. I hope to take it up again."

"You could offer lessons," Hagen suggested. "I am sure you would find that relaxing."

"I've always wanted to learn to play," Valerie said. She smiled at him and Landa grimaced inside. He forced a smile.

"Elaine you could go aswel! Always room for improvement no?" Hagen asked before adding, "she hasn't had a formal tutor in a few years."

"I would love too," Landa said. In truth he wouldn't mind having Elaine to himself, but he didn't know how he ended up a piano tutor after such a simple statement. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

He glanced over at Elaine who, for the first time that night wasn't glaring at him, but glaring at Valerie instead.


End file.
